


Snapshots Of Simple Days

by mansikka



Series: Domesticity [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, POV Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-28 10:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12604960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Glimpses of the every day things that Magnus and Alec do when they're not Heads of Institutes or High Warlocks of Brooklyn.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey,”

Alec looks up from where he’s scrubbing a mark he insists he can get out of a floorboard even if Magnus’ magic can’t, and sits back on his heels with a smile.

“Hey,”

“You’ve not been doing that all morning, have you?” Magnus asks, walking towards him as he balances the bags of groceries he’s just bought in his arms.

“Nope,” Alec assures him, rising to his feet and snagging up a couple of those bags, before leaning in for a kiss, “I had a meeting, I spoke to my mother. Made some reviews of a couple of missions we didn’t do so great with last week. Came home,”

“Well, good,” Magnus smiles, kissing at his shoulder in passing knowing Alec will follow him through to the kitchen, “I am glad you finally started to delegate your workload a little more, instead of trying to do everything yourself,”

“I know,” Alec huffs, though is smiling with it, dropping the bags down on the counter and beginning to pull out their contents, slotting everything away in their rightful place as though he’s been living there for a lot longer than he technically has. Although, Magnus thinks, smiling to himself as he watches him, even before then, Alec was very much at home in this space. It has been an age since Alec has hesitated before making coffee, or food, or snagged up blankets to wrap up in when he is cold on the couch.

“It’s a good thing, Alexander,” Magnus tells him, unable to resist coming to step behind him and wrap his arms around his waist.

“I know it is,” and Alec pauses from reaching up for an overhead cupboard to cover Magnus’ hands with his own, “I can’t promise I’ll always be able to do it, but everything’s organized so I don’t have to go back until the morning unless something comes up. So maybe we can get lunch together before you see that client you keep complaining about,”

“I do not _complain_ ,” Magnus huffs, slipping his hands from Alec’s sides with a kiss to his shoulder blade, and turning away to begin preparing tea.  

“ _‘Alexander’,_ ” Alec retorts, in what Magnus thinks is a terrible impersonation of his voice, “ _‘the man is insufferable; if he makes one more remark about magic being—’_ ”

“Okay,” Magnus relents, setting up their cups on a tray as Alec waves the bread he’s just bought to see if he wants a sandwich, “perhaps I complain a _little_ ,”

“I’m sure he deserves it,” Alec smiles, placating him, turning to the fridge to pull out everything he wants and starting to prepare their lunch.

“So, what are you going to do with yourself this afternoon if you’re not working?” Magnus asks, dragging plates out from a cupboard ready for their food.

“I said I’d meet Luke,”

“Work?” Magnus says, spinning to look at him, wondering if there's some conflict with the werewolves that he’s yet to hear about.

“No,” Alec smiles, holding out the plate of tomatoes he’s just cut for Magnus to take a slice, “just a drink. He has the afternoon off too, said since I was free, we could meet up. Maybe you can join us when you’re done?”

“Perhaps,” Magnus agrees, already liking the idea, “I think I should be finished by around five; do you think you will still be there? Wherever it is you are going?”

“Maybe,” Alec shrugs, gesturing at the mayonnaise to see if Magnus wants any, “and I think the Hunter’s Moon. Maybe message when you’re done?”

“I will,” Magnus smiles, and Alec nudges against his hip in passing with two plates held up high, leaving Magnus to follow with their tray of tea and nodding in agreement when Alec suggests they eat on the balcony.

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“This one?” Magnus bends to smell the dish detergent Alec is holding out for him and hums in approval, watching Alec snap the lid closed and drop the bottle into the cart. “We’re almost out of laundry detergent too; might as well get that now,”

“Okay,” Magnus agrees, smiling as Alec ducks to kiss him quickly then nudges against his side, making his way down the aisle with the cart. “Do you want to have dinner out tonight? Or eat at home?”

“Home,” Alec replies immediately, practically shrinking down into his jacket. He makes an excellent point, Magnus thinks; it is a horrible, wet, grey, kind of day, and aside from this outing for groceries and other essentials they’re running low on, it is the perfect day for staying home. Which they _will_ be doing, Magnus thinks to himself; it’s been a difficult few weeks with heavy work schedules for them both, as well as more time than usual spent in the company of friends, and though they’ve been living together for a while now, Magnus likes the idea of having Alec alone to himself for more than a few hours at the start or end of their day.

“Take out or cook something?”

“We’re here,” Alec shrugs, nodding towards the grocery section they’re coming up to, “maybe we can cook something together,” which makes Magnus smile even harder. Their joint cooking adventures are always fun, and rarely end in total disaster. But some things it’s easier if he does the majority of cooking for by himself, and has Alec there merely as taste tester and server of wine. He’s getting better, Magnus thinks, smiling hard at the memory of the rice dish they made a week or so back that almost entirely stayed in the pan in one burnt clump, then catches Alec raising an eyebrow at him as though he’s reading his mind, and reaches out to give his hand a placating squeeze.  

“Whatever you would like,”

Alec hums to himself, screwing his face up a little as he thinks, then pushing the cart forward with more determination. “Buttered noodles and that chicken you did with all the herbs,”

“Okay,” Magnus agrees easily, adding a few things to the cart as they walk.

“And we should probably get some more cat food for when you’re out; I had three cats howling at me on the balcony this morning when you’d already gone,”

Magnus pictures the various cats that visit them and make themselves completely at home on their balcony, and the reproachful looks they send them both when their dishes are empty. “Perhaps we should take a trip to PetSmart, pick up some of those automatic food dispensers,”

“Right,” Alec smiles, laughter in his voice as he squeezes around Magnus’ waist, “like last time. Went for cat food, and a birthday gift for Madzie. Spent almost three hours petting the chinchillas, and puppies,”

“I don’t remember you complaining at the time,” Magnus retorts, remembering the small German Shepherd puppy that had fallen asleep in Alec’s arms, and wondering if they could fairly fit a pet into their schedules with time to give it adequate care. “And besides; Madzie loves her little hamster. Catarina told me yesterday that she was trying to magic the poor little thing a scarf, because it looked cold,”

“I know,” Alec laughs, smiling, “she sent me a picture. Not sure it thinks red is a good color,”

Magnus smiles, having received the same picture himself.

“And anyway,” Alec continues, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I’m not complaining _now_ , just planning. If we’re gonna go there, we’re gonna need time, and I… I’d just really like to be _home_ with you right now,”

Magnus can’t argue with that. He turns a fraction to tilt his chin up to ask for a kiss, then makes a mental list of all the things remaining for them to buy, and plans the quickest route around the store to get them home.

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“You ever think about learning something?”

Magnus pauses from sorting through their laundry hamper for the few things he’s thrown in there in a hurry that he knows need dry cleaning, and drops another shirt into the basket Alec is holding out.

“Learning something?” he repeats, looking up at Alec and catching the slight narrowing of his eyes that says he’s thinking about something.  

“Yeah,”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Alec shrugs, bending down to pick up a stray sock that’s fallen out of the hamper to add to the basket, “just… something. Anything. For fun. That everything?” he adds, nodding towards the few items Magnus has in his hands.

“I think so,”

“I think I left a shirt in the bedroom, hold on,” and Magnus watches as Alec puts the washing basket down and turns on his heel, leaving him to debate his question.  

“What about this? Wash or dry clean?” Alec asks when he returns, with his shirt in one hand and extending a jacket Magnus has forgotten about in the other.

“I should probably dry clean it,” Magnus says as he takes it from his fingers, watching Alec throw the shirt in the machine then add everything else from the basket. “So? Why the question?”

“About studying?” Alec asks, turning the dial on the machine then adding detergent to the drawer, giving everything the once over before starting it. “I don’t know. I was speaking to Clary. She was sat on the steps of the Institute sketching something earlier. Went out to sit with her. Got talking about her missing not studying art,”

“She is talented,” Magnus says, taking the basket from Alec’s hands and putting it back in its place, then nodding for him to follow him out, piling the clothes to be dry cleaned on a chair.

“She is,” Alec agrees, “I can’t even think how she does it. Just… looks at something and draws it, or just… I don’t know. Imagines it, or something,”

“She was always fascinating to watch as a child,” Magnus smiles, remembering the times he had seen her with Jocelyn growing up, and watching her work. “So, what would you study? If you had the chance?” Magnus asks, tilting his chin at the bedding and towels they’ve yet to put away, and reaching out to snatch up the corners of a sheet as Alec grabs the other end.

“I don’t know,” Alec shrugs, “I guess… I mean I guess there’s all kinds of things I could learn, from a Mundane perspective, about training, weapons, stuff like that,”

“Alexander,” Magnus smiles, stepping forward to grab the corners so they can fold the sheet over and taking the time to snatch a kiss, “I think you already give the Clave enough of your time. What if you could learn something, just for you. Just for _fun_ —like you said,”

Alec sighs to himself as he takes the now-folded sheet from Magnus’ fingers and starts a pile on the nearest chair. “I don’t know,”

“You enjoy learning about history,” Magnus points out, repeating the same folding process with some more bedding as Alec hums to himself, clearly still thinking the question over. And it’s true; some nights they do nothing but sit on their couch together with Alec asking question after question about the periods he’s lived through, never seeming to hear enough.

“I guess,”

“You practically inhaled those books I suggested reading when we were at Catarina’s keeping an eye on Madzie when she was sick when Catarina had to work, and she fell asleep in your lap,” Magnus adds, reaching out to smooth over a corner on a sheet that’s sticking up.  

“Yeah,” Alec agrees, smiling, and Magnus knows it’s for the fond memory of Madzie, who is mesmerized by Alec more every time she sees him, “yeah, they were pretty good,”

“So,” Magnus says, folding up towels as Alec tackles their pillow cases, having declared that they needed a new set for their bed, and in the process of changing them had decided to give all the other sets a clean, “perhaps history then,”

“You know, sometimes Izzy sits with Maia when she’s studying at the Jade Wolf, or on her breaks at the Hunter’s Moon. Loves every second of it,” Alec tells him, scooping up the stack of freshly washed items and lowering them enough for Magnus to add the final towel in his hands, “she’s always reading something. Think she’s got five different subscriptions to magazines about science and stuff,”

Magnus knows exactly which subscription he’s going to order for Alec the next chance he gets, he thinks to himself as he holds open a door for Alec to put their washing away. “And Jace?”

“Jace?” Alec repeats, closing the door and leaning back against it. “I mean, I don’t think he’d want to studying anything properly, but. He picks stuff up so quickly, I guess he could do anything he wanted,”

“As could you,” Magnus tells him, tangling their fingers together and tugging so Alec knows to follow. “Drink?”

“That thing you made with the orange juice,” Alec says immediately, and it makes Magnus smile. His variant on a Mai Tai with possibly a little too generous a measure of rum Alec had drunk almost a full pitcher of to himself when he’d made it for Jace, Izzy, and Clary coming over for dinner, and it had left him rosy cheeked and bright smiled, and more openly affectionate than usual. Alec follows him over to where he’s preparing their drinks and watches every move like he’s trying to memorize the steps for himself.

“So tell me,” Magnus smiles, nodding for Alec to pass him the waiting glasses, “what’s brought this on? Just talking to Clary?”

“I guess,” Alec shrugs again, “wanna sit outside?”

“Sure,”

“I just… it’s been a long, long time since I studied anything, and I don’t… I guess I never really thought of doing it for fun, you know?”

“I do,” Magnus agrees, ducking under Alec’s arm as they sit down together and leaning into him with a sigh, “I must admit, it is not something I think about all that much,”

“But you know so much,” Alec tells him, “I can probably ask you anything… about anything. And you’ll know the answer,”

“I have been around for a while,” Magnus laughs, earning himself a kiss to his temple and a hum there.

“So you just sort of… picked things up?”

“More or less,” Magnus agrees, thinking of the academics he’s known, the multitude of books he’s read, and the places he’s been that he’s committed to memory just by being there.

“And there’s nothing… nothing you’d wanna learn more about?” Alec asks, taking a sip of his drink then pushing the glass on to the table in front of them.

“I have… dabbled in so many things,” Magnus replies, “tailoring. Fashion. Languages. Literature. And of course, all the lore about the Downworld and the Clave that it is possible to know,”

“See?” Alec teases, ducking to kiss him. “You know everything,”

“Not everything,” Magnus denies, turning into him a little, “I don’t know how to… perform heart surgery," he says with a splay of fingers over Alec's heart. "Develop the perfect soil for growing crops that would ensure no one ever goes hungry. Or—”

“C’mon, Magnus,” Alec laughs, squeezing his arm around him and nudging against his head.

“I mean it,” Magnus insists with a smile, “if there were anything I would choose to learn, it would be something that would help other people. I’ve led a long life doing things just to please myself; life is more rewarding, I think, when we are less… self-absorbed,”

“You could never be self-absorbed,” Alec immediately retorts with, shaking his head in denial, “Magnus, you do so much, for everyone. Even if you don’t particularly like them,”

Magnus likes the image Alec has of him, he thinks, even if it is far more generous than he would allow himself. “I am… not the person I once was,”

“Neither am I,” Alec points out, and Magnus can’t help but agree with that. Gone is the cautious, hesitant, driven-purely-by-work man that Magnus first met. He’s still got all the best qualities of those things, of course, but in addition is open, freer, and happier within himself. Magnus loves that he’s both got to witness that growth, and be a part of it.

“I suppose not,” is all Magnus replies with, however, turning a little in Alec’s embrace, nuzzling his way into his neck, already dreaming up new locations to take Alec so that his interest in history can be explored a little more.

* * *

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I… don’t think this sauce is supposed to be this color,”

Magnus returns from the bathroom, having only left Alec alone in the kitchen for a matter of minutes with specific instructions not to touch anything, to find him standing and peering curiously into the pan, giving a violent stir that’s sloshing things everywhere.

“What did you do?” he asks in dismay, looking at the lumpy mulch that a few moments ago was marinara sauce and is now no good for anything, turning off the heat, and dumping the entire contents into the trash.

“The instructions,” Alec says, with a reproachful tilt of his chin towards the open page, “I was just following the instructions,”

Magnus walks over to inspect the recipe for himself, and wonders what Alec was reading that he is not. “Okay,” he says anyway, smiling because the disappointed pout on Alec’s face is far too adorable to be anything close to mad about, “we’ll start again,”

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this,” Alec sighs, taking the pan from Magnus’ fingers and turning to the sink to wash it.

“It’s no problem,” Magnus tells him easily, stroking a comforting hand down his back, “we all have to start somewhere,”

“I should be better by now,” Alec sighs again, and it’s so forlorn that Magnus has to spin him, even with suds still dripping from his fingers, to wrap his arms around him and lean up for a kiss.

“There is no time scale for—”

“Magnus,” Alec says, raising his arms to lean over his shoulders so those suds won’t make their way onto Magnus’ shirt, “it’s not like this is the first time we’ve cooked together,”

Magnus thinks of the various times they _have_ cooked a meal together, the varying degrees of disasters they’ve had or narrowly avoided, and wonders how on earth Alec has the muscle and definition he has to his body, if he’s been raised in a household where no one can cook.

“My parents never cooked all that much,” Alec adds then as though plucking the thoughts from his mind, “and there were so many people around that _could_ cook, I guess I… I guess I just never got around to learning,”

“It’s okay,” Magnus tells him again, starting the sauce over as Alec comes to stand beside him.

“I’m… not as bad as Izzy, though. Am I?” Alec asks, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, his voice raising a little in alarm. Magnus thinks of the sponge cake Izzy had made for them not long after Alec had moved in, how the aftertaste had stayed with him no matter how many cocktails he drank, and the texture that had a distinctly chewy consistency that Magnus has more than once pondered the reason for since, and shakes his head.

“No, Alexander. Your sister is an… exceptionally bad cook,” which makes Alec smile a little in relief at least, injecting confidence into his shoulders enough to push back from the counter and pick up the bowl with the meatball mix ready to form. “Make them even,” Magnus calls out before Alec can even get his hands in, earning himself another reproachful look that leaves Magnus fighting back yet another smile.

“I wanted to cook you something special some time, but… I don’t know if it’s such a good idea,” Alec says, half-distracted for the concentration he’s putting in to shaping the meatballs, desperately trying to get them all the same size. Magnus thinks of the almost-fire they’d had when he’d returned a little later than expected and Alec had, ambitiously, been attempting to make beef bourguignon, and attempts to keep the horror from his expression.

“There is no need—”

“But I wanted to,” Alec insists, sagging a little, “I thought maybe… it’d be nice to… I’d just like to be able to, without destroying our kitchen,” Alec settles for saying, turning away with his hands held up as though he’s been mid-surgery instead of preparing food, leaving Magnus glad he can’t see his face as he continues to control his smile.

“Alexander,” he says, brimming with affection, “that we get to have dinner together, almost every evening, is more than enough; wherever the food is coming from,”

“But you can cook,” Alec sighs, “I know you conjure stuff here a lot of the time, but… you can really cook. Everything you make tastes amazing,”

Magnus wants to remind him that he’s had a lot of time to learn such skills, and that he’s not quite the disaster he thinks he is in the kitchen—not for everything—but Alec sounds so dejected, that once Magnus has the sauce to the consistency it’s supposed to be, he’s turning, grabbing Alec by the waist, and hoisting him up on to the counter, slotting between his legs.

“Alexander,” he says, tilting his chin up and smiling as Alec hooks his elbows over his shoulders, “you regularly bring me breakfast in bed—”

“Even I can use a waffle iron, Magnus,” Alec complains, and Magnus can't help beaming at his pout.

“On the contrary,” Magnus denies, “not everyone can prepare waffle batter without lumps,”

“Magnus,” Alec sighs with reproach, and Magnus has to kiss the look off his face, looping his arms around his waist and smiling into his chest.

“I’m serious,” he says, claiming one more kiss before turning back to the sauce, “batter is not something everyone can perfect. And you make excellent breakfast eggs,”   

“Two things,” Alec sighs, his bare heels drumming back against the counter. Magnus turns to smile at him, gives the sauce another stir, then snaps his fingers and puts a glass of wine in both their hands, returning to standing between Alec’s legs and stroking a hand up his thigh to rest around his hip.

“You are also excellent kitchen company,”

“Great,” Alec huffs, “I—” but Magnus silences him with a kiss and doesn’t pull back until he feels him sagging a little against him.

“Your club sandwiches are to die for,” Magnus insists, smiling as Alec raises one hand to cup the back of his head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he rolls his eyes. “And those barbecue chicken—”

“I just added chicken to a sauce,”

“And your guacamole is perfect,” Magnus adds, thinking of a messy night with fajitas about a month ago, where they perhaps had indulged in a little too much wine.

“You talked me through the recipe,”

“But you made it,” Magnus insists, slipping his thumb up beneath the back of Alec’s Henley and circling it there.  

Alec sighs again, but smiles, apparently having his own memories of the evening, for the kiss he drops on his cheek. “What’s the name again? Of that turn you tried to teach me, when I ended up breaking that vase on the bookshelf?”

“The Noventa,” Magnus grins, again stepping away after another kiss to return to the stove, “it is a very difficult move. And besides; it was technically my elbow that knocked the vase. I shouldn’t have been trying to teach you how to lead a move like that when we were both so… inebriated,”

“Was fun though,” Alec replies, hopping down from the counter and squeezing Magnus around the waist from behind, then making himself busy with preparing plates and cutlery, apparently having accepted he’ll be no further help in preparing their meal.

“It was,” Magnus agrees, turning to catch Alec’s smile for him.

“You want me to do the spaghetti?” Alec asks once he’s back to checking the pan, and Magnus doesn’t mean to screw his face up quite so tightly for remembering how the last time Alec had tried to cook spaghetti, and the entire thing had stuck together in one slimy mass.

“I—”

But Alec is snorting with laughter, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder, then handing him the spaghetti with a raised eyebrow in tease, clearly already knowing the answer.

“I’ll set the table,” he says, grabbing up the plates and cutlery and walking away. Magnus turns to watch him making his way out to the balcony for a few seconds with a smile on his face and a sigh on his lips, then once again turns back to the sauce.

* * *

 

 


End file.
